


It's Always Sunny in New Vegas

by NihilNoviSubSole, xXAlphaWolfErinXx



Category: Fallout: New Vegas, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Charlie and Rats, Charlie huffs too much paint, Crossover, Gen, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NihilNoviSubSole/pseuds/NihilNoviSubSole, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXAlphaWolfErinXx/pseuds/xXAlphaWolfErinXx
Summary: When Charlie Kelly huffs too much paint, he wakes to a man named Arcade trying to rouse him in an unfamiliar desert landscape. Arcade leads him back to safety, but at great cost to his own sanity.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	It's Always Sunny in New Vegas

Charlie Kelly closed the bathroom door to Paddy’s Pub and eagerly whipped out a fresh can of spray paint from his hiding spot under the sink.

“Metallic silver,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve been saving you for a rainy day!”

He found his beloved paint-huffing rag and loaded it up with a few good sprays. _Eh, maybe a couple more for good measure_ , he thought.

He pressed the rag to his nose and took an almighty sniff. 

_Huh. Nothing_. He thought.

A couple more sprays. Still nothing.

He blew his nose to make sure the path was clear and snorted it again, with fervor.

 _Oh no...that’s not good..._ he thought, seconds before his world went black.

***

“Hello? Sir! Are you alright? Sir! Can you hear me?” came an unfamiliar voice through the blackness.

“What?” Charlie said, with a dazed expression on his face. “Huh?”

“Are you alright?” the man repeated. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, man, I’m good--”

Charlie opened his eyes and saw a totally unfamiliar landscape. Everything was desert sand, and the sun was hot. Nothing like Philadelphia, and certainly not like Paddy’s Pub.

“What? Where the fuck am I?” he said, shocked and confused.

“Oh, good, you’re conscious. Wait. What do you mean, where are you? Did you hit your head?”

“Nah, man, I just huffed a bunch of paint.”

The man cast a judgmental, but confused, eye over his glasses upon him. “Did you say paint?” he said.

“Yeah. I keep it under the sink in the pub!”

“Oh, so you came from the Atomic Wrangler!” said the man with relief. “Ok, I’ll take you back.”

“The what? Is that that new joint by the Liberty Bell?” Charlie said, baffled.

“What? No. The Liberty Bell is in Philadelphia.”

“Yeah, that’s where we are, right?”

“Um...wow. Okay,” said Arcade, realizing this was more that he’d signed up for, “Maybe you really do need some help. I’m Arcade Gannon, and we’re in the Mojave Desert. Yknow. Nevada?”

“So Las Vegas!” he said, “Neat! I bet they have lots of paint here!”

“It...uh...hasn’t been called that in a while, man. What year do you think it is?” Arcade said cautiously.

“Oh, like, 2020 right? Yeah, with the orange guy in the oval office?” Charlie replied enthusiastically.

“Wow. No, nope. Not by a long shot.” Arcade was stunned. “It’s 2281. You’re in _New_ Vegas.”

“Well, that’s weird. Cause when I huffed all that paint--”

“Ok, let me stop you right there. You said you were huffing paint?”

“Yeah! Did you want some? I’d offer you some but I dunno where it went. I think it rolled off somewhere,” Charlie crawled around, searching for his beloved lost can with his hands.

“Yeah, no, I’m actually good, but I think you need some help. Come on. I’ll take you to the Followers camp and we’ll see if we can get your head on straight.” Arcade gestured for Charlie to follow him.

“Ok then, man,” Charlie said resignedly, “I don't know what you’re talking about, but I like that coat, so I’m just gonna listen to ya.”

“Thank God for that,” sighed Arcade, unsure of what he was getting himself into.

The long walk back to the...Foghorn? Fortune? Forklift? Whatever. Camp was hot and dry.

“Hey man, do you have some water or something?” Charlie piped up.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I got some in my bag.” 

“Oh, cool. What about beer?”

Arcade stopped in his tracks to stare at Charlie. “You...you want beer.”

“Yeah, cause, like, Frank says I can’t trust the water.” Charlie said, self-assuredly.

“Who...who the hell is...nevermind. You mean Nevada water?”

“No, like, all water. All the water. Something about immigrants.”

“So let me get this straight. You want...beer...after huffing a can of--I’m gonna go ahead and say--a full can of metallic silver spray paint,” said Arcade, pausing to really absorb what he was hearing.

“Yeah, like, it really takes the edge off that paint high.”

“...no. I don’t have any beer. And by the way, who are you?”  
“I’m a janitor.”

“No. What’s your name?”

“Oh! It’s Charlie.”

“Great. Charlie. No. I don’t have any beer. Because I am a doctor. And we’re in the middle of the desert. I have _water_. Do you want water?”

“No, I’m okay.” Charlie seemed content.

Arcade rolled his eyes.

As night began to fall, Arcade realized they wouldn’t make it back to the Camp before morning. So, he proposed they set up some sleeping bags and find some shelter.

“Okay, we can get ready for bed, but no Nightcrawlers. I only do that with Frank. And I’m gonna need some cat food.”

“...okay, we’ll get back to that last thing in a minute, but who even _is_ Frank? Is he your partner? Can I contact him?” Arcade was excited at the possibility of unloading his nightmare companion back to his rightful owner.

“No, just some guy. I mean, he _might_ be my dad. He _did_ bang my mom, but she’s a hooker and has slept with a _lotta_ guys. Including Santa,” Charlie said, gazing vacantly into the night sky.

“Um...okay, that’s way more information than I actually asked for.”

“Why? Do you have a dude partner?”

“Um...no. I don’t.”

“Cause I mean, our friend Mac is gay, but you’re not gay like _Mac_ is gay, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Arcade, slightly offended.

“Well, I mean, you don’t have a _bike_ , right?”

Arcade was starting to regret asking any clarifying questions, but his morbid curiosity got the better of him. “A... _bike_?”

“Yeah, like, Mac has this bike, right? He keeps it in his room, and it’s got this big _fist_ for a seat.”

“A _fist_?”

“Yeah, like a big dildo with a fist on the end! And it pumps, like, up and down when he pedals. He says it’s just to keep him moving, but _we_ know what it’s really for. So, you’re not like _that_ kinda gay guy right? Not that I have a problem with gay guys, I’m sure you’re great, but I do kinda have a problem with Mac. I mean, he has a sex doll of our friend Dennis, and he says it’s not a sex doll, but he pumps his loads in it a lot. And it always smells like bleach, but it wouldn’t smell like bleach if--”

“That’s--that’s quite enough,” Arcade interrupted. “Yes, I’m gay, but no, I’m _definitely_ not gay like your friend Mac.”

“Oh, ok! No homo or anything bud but you’re quite a--  
“That’s--that’s fine, Charlie, thank you.”

“So, how bout that cat food?”

The next morning, Arcade was rudely awakened by Charlie shouting, “RATS! RATS! RATS!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you afraid of them? I should have warned you.”

“No, man, I just don’t have my rat basher and I wanna kill ‘em!”

“Your...rat ba--you know what? No. I don’t want to know. I don’t care. Let’s get going.”

“But I really wanna kill some rats! You know, if you don’t get ‘em now, it’s just going to get worse!”

“No. We’re leaving, Charlie.”

“Ok, but I can tell ya right now, this place is gonna have a HUGE rat problem when you come back.”

Arcade ignored him.

At long last, they reached the Followers camp, after an _exhausting_ journey.

“Ok, Charlie, I got you back here alive. I’ve fulfilled my hippocratic oath to do no harm, and I am out. Pleasure, making your acquaintance,” he said dryly.

“Ok, man, well, it’s been super cool talking to ya and everything, and getting to know you!”

“Yep.”

“About all your gay stuff.”

“I...didn’t disclose…”

“No, I know, but it’s cool that you’re like a normal gay guy and not like Mac with his--”

“Goodbye, Charlie,” Arcade cut him off, “Really, such a special experience traveling with you. Julie? Oh thank god. Julie. Please. Please take him. I can’t take it anymore.”

Julie had a kind face and led Charlie back to a medical tent. “What seems to be the problem, Charlie?” she said.

“Oh, well, I huffed a whole bunch of paint and woke up in the middle of the desert, and that nice doctor guy with the cool coat found me and brought me here. Do you have beer?”

“Um...no, Charlie. You said you were huffing paint?”

“Yeah, metallic silver! It’s my favorite!”

“Okay, well, it sounds like you might have a bit of a substance problem. Would you say that?”

“I dunno. Dee and Dennis sure do. They’re not supposed to have crack anymore, but I gotta tell ya, I know they do it sometimes.”

“Alright, Charlie. Can you do me a favor and look at the ceiling for me?”

“Sure! What am I looking fo--”

He felt a sharp prick in his arm and once again, his surroundings dissolved into blackness.

***

“Charlie! Charlie! Wake up, you dumb son of a bitch! What are you doing?”

Charlie came to, groggily looking around the Paddy’s Pub bathroom. “Huh? Where’s Arcade? And the nice lady with the mohawk?”

“What the fuck--Charlie, you passed out after huffing too much paint _again!_ ” snapped Dennis. “Get your lazy ass up, we’ve got some rats to kill.”  
“All RIGHT! Arcade wouldn’t let me hit--”

“I don’t--I don’t care. Just kill the goddamn rats,” Dennis demanded.

Charlie found his rat smasher and happily skipped off to kill some rats, thinking of his new friend the whole time.

***

Arcade Gannon rested his weary feet, at last. He was used to long walks, but never with such exhausting company. He was sure Charlie was a nice kid, but, patient outreach wasn’t exactly Arcade’s thing on a _good_ day.

He reached in his pocket for a lens-cleaning cloth for his filthy glasses. Instead, he found a crumpled piece of paper. 

_That’s strange,_ he thought, _I don’t remember writing a note._

As he looked closer, he saw a series of unintelligible hieroglyphs.One seemed to depict a rat with a “NO” sign crossed over it, one looked like Arcade’s glasses, and one was a fist, also with a “NO” sign through it.

At the bottom was the only smidgen of something that resembled written English:

“ARKED IZ BASTURD MAN.”

Arcade cast the note into a nearby bonfire. _I think I_ will _have that beer,_ he thought as he made off for his quarters.


End file.
